Read Online Something to Talk About by Dakota Cassidy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dakota Cassidy
Ads: Link
giggling—the picture of him before his father had left without warning, and before he thought it was his responsibility to be the man in the Amos household. Her heart tightened in her chest. She’d give anything to have that little boy back again.
“You’re such a dirty, dirty boy, Lionel!” the new dayshift operator, Simone, squealed in exaggerated delight from the office across from Jax’s. “If you keep this kind of behavior up, you know what’s gonna happen to me, don’t you, mama’s nasty little boy? You’ll make me scream for you to—”
Em coughed loudly, reacting without thinking before Jax had the chance to hear another word of Simone’s phone call. She forgot that touching the chest she’d dreamed of for two months would be the end of her. She forgot that her palms would ache to touch more of him. She just wanted to drown out listening to a phone call like Simone’s while standing right next to him.
Since she’d begun working at Call Girls, most of the naughty rolled right off her back, became background noise she heard it so much. But listening to it with Jax was akin to acting out the Kama Sutra page by page.
Placing her palms on his chest, she fought the swift rush of heat all those muscles created, battled the weakness in her knees, and gave him a shove into his office. “Let’s talk in your office,” she all but shouted to cover Simone’s next request of her client.
Their limbs tangled up, tripping and stuttering until they ended up pushed against the wall, Jax holding her firmly to keep them from falling.
But he didn’t let her go. He kept his hands sprawled over her hips, letting them rest along the rounded swells like they belonged there. He laughed, his minty breath washing over her face, his eyes amused. “The girls told me you could be pushy. Who knew?”
Somewhere. Her next breath was somewhere in her diaphragm, afraid to come out for fear her exhalation would press her tighter to Jax’s length. She took a step back, still clinging to the screwdriver for all she was worth. “I am not pushy. Don’t you listen to those women. They tell tales out of school. Next they’ll have you thinkin’ I’m some sort of ogre.”
“Ogres have warts.” He tilted her chin up with his Band-Aid–wrapped forefinger, examining her face. His eyes went smoky when he grinned. “No warts.”
Em’s breathing hitched in her throat when he placed a thumb just beneath her lower lip. “Not a one.”
“Definitely not,” he agreed, still keeping his hands loosely on her hips, still wreaking havoc with her forbidden bits. “So things get a little racy around here, huh?”
Em hid her gulp and shrugged her shoulders to fake nonchalance. Like she was a sexpert. “That? I’m so used to it, it’s like hearin’ someone report the morning news.”
Jax laughed, sort of low, which did squishy, unidentifiable things to her belly. “Can’t say I ever remember hearing Katie Couric use those words to describe the war in Iraq,” he quipped.
“That was probably Bryant’s fault, always tryin’ to keep a good woman down.” She giggled a little then silently reprimanded herself for behaving like an inexperienced schoolgirl.
While not off the mark, that wasn’t the impression she wanted to give. She was Emmaline Amos, general manager of Call Girls Inc. In charge of a multimillion-dollar corporation. In. Charge.
Jax cleared his throat, still staring down at her. “Anyway, that question...” he muttered.
She snorted when she remembered there’d been a reason Jax had asked her into his office. And it’s probably a sexless question, Nympho Nancy . Then she covered her mouth when she realized she’d snorted, flustered and red all over again.
This was a perfect example of why she and small talk with devastatingly gorgeous men were twains that would never comfortably meet. “Oh, my apologies! I forgot all about the reason you asked me in here. What can I do for you?” Or do to you?
“I
“You’re such a dirty, dirty boy, Lionel!” the new dayshift operator, Simone, squealed in exaggerated delight from the office across from Jax’s. “If you keep this kind of behavior up, you know what’s gonna happen to me, don’t you, mama’s nasty little boy? You’ll make me scream for you to—”
Em coughed loudly, reacting without thinking before Jax had the chance to hear another word of Simone’s phone call. She forgot that touching the chest she’d dreamed of for two months would be the end of her. She forgot that her palms would ache to touch more of him. She just wanted to drown out listening to a phone call like Simone’s while standing right next to him.
Since she’d begun working at Call Girls, most of the naughty rolled right off her back, became background noise she heard it so much. But listening to it with Jax was akin to acting out the Kama Sutra page by page.
Placing her palms on his chest, she fought the swift rush of heat all those muscles created, battled the weakness in her knees, and gave him a shove into his office. “Let’s talk in your office,” she all but shouted to cover Simone’s next request of her client.
Their limbs tangled up, tripping and stuttering until they ended up pushed against the wall, Jax holding her firmly to keep them from falling.
But he didn’t let her go. He kept his hands sprawled over her hips, letting them rest along the rounded swells like they belonged there. He laughed, his minty breath washing over her face, his eyes amused. “The girls told me you could be pushy. Who knew?”
Somewhere. Her next breath was somewhere in her diaphragm, afraid to come out for fear her exhalation would press her tighter to Jax’s length. She took a step back, still clinging to the screwdriver for all she was worth. “I am not pushy. Don’t you listen to those women. They tell tales out of school. Next they’ll have you thinkin’ I’m some sort of ogre.”
“Ogres have warts.” He tilted her chin up with his Band-Aid–wrapped forefinger, examining her face. His eyes went smoky when he grinned. “No warts.”
Em’s breathing hitched in her throat when he placed a thumb just beneath her lower lip. “Not a one.”
“Definitely not,” he agreed, still keeping his hands loosely on her hips, still wreaking havoc with her forbidden bits. “So things get a little racy around here, huh?”
Em hid her gulp and shrugged her shoulders to fake nonchalance. Like she was a sexpert. “That? I’m so used to it, it’s like hearin’ someone report the morning news.”
Jax laughed, sort of low, which did squishy, unidentifiable things to her belly. “Can’t say I ever remember hearing Katie Couric use those words to describe the war in Iraq,” he quipped.
“That was probably Bryant’s fault, always tryin’ to keep a good woman down.” She giggled a little then silently reprimanded herself for behaving like an inexperienced schoolgirl.
While not off the mark, that wasn’t the impression she wanted to give. She was Emmaline Amos, general manager of Call Girls Inc. In charge of a multimillion-dollar corporation. In. Charge.
Jax cleared his throat, still staring down at her. “Anyway, that question...” he muttered.
She snorted when she remembered there’d been a reason Jax had asked her into his office. And it’s probably a sexless question, Nympho Nancy . Then she covered her mouth when she realized she’d snorted, flustered and red all over again.
This was a perfect example of why she and small talk with devastatingly gorgeous men were twains that would never comfortably meet. “Oh, my apologies! I forgot all about the reason you asked me in here. What can I do for you?” Or do to you?
“I
Similar Books
